Bright Green Smog Filter.

Spectral people walk the streets on thin concrete with a pulse like molten rocks floating on lava. Bodies disjointed, solid limbs held together by veins of mist while walking with robotic legs carrying a plasma torso. The air is thicker than we are and the industrial wastes streaming from hundred foot towers is dense, not unlike the clouds of thought clamoring for attention storming in my brain. You are cart-wheeling in a grotesque fashion; Your body rolls with your direction, head never upside down but at some point below the knees. Every thing You thought You knew was wrong.